


Years of War

by Goombella123



Series: Hear the Bells [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Childhood, Fae & Fairies, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, as per usual: fairies don't have genders unless they decide so they/them for the fae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goombella123/pseuds/Goombella123
Summary: There are days gone by of Otabek's childhood that he doesn't remember, but that Yuri will never forget.(Major Spoilers for Hear the Bells, and part of Otayuri Week 2017!)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really need to emphasize that this is MAJOR spoilers for Hear the Bells. Please read that first, if you can. Also, naming these fics after Porter Robinson songs is now a tradition.

 

Otabek wasn’t a dim child. Unobservant, maybe, but quiet and calculated. He knew more than the adults around him would like to think. He knew more than what kept them comfortable.

 

For one- he knew that diplomats were not, and never will be, trustworthy people.

 

He’d seen them roam in and out of his parent’s court, offering pleasantries covered in a veil so thin that even blind men could see through them. Their flowery words and honeyed tones, offers far greater than what could be true were a weekly occurrence for the boy and his parents. People wanted a slice of their kingdom- of the trading and cultural center of Almaty- for nothing in return. And the way they treated Otabek, the crown prince with a strange stare, made him uneasy. Their hatred, too, was easy to see through.

 

Court nobles were always wary of his presence. But that was fine.

 

Otabek returned the sentiment tenfold.

 

King Altin could put up with their grovelling. With their smooth-tonged lies and shifting glances. Honestly, Otabek didn’t know how his father did it- especially since mother barely could. She wasn’t born an aristocrat like him. A life of people kneeling to her, of kissing her hands and feet, was not something she seemed to want, or was willing to get used to. Otabek knew, because she had said as much to his face. In the Prince's dim, candle-lit bedroom, chambers echoing with the ringing of her voice, Otabek’s mother could air however she felt. He wondered, sometimes, if she thought he was as dumb as everyone else did, to tell him such secrets. But he realized, after a while, it was because she trusted him.

  
  
Despite being a child, he was the only one she could safely talk to. On one night, she had said;

 

“I am a woman of my people, my son. My darling child. And my people are a solitary creature.”

 

Otabek wasn’t surprised.

 

He was a lot like her, even at the childish age of ten. The young prince found that he never really enjoyed the company of others. Interaction always felt forced to him- with adults, and with children his age or younger. Otabek struggled to connect with people. He’d never made a lasting friend, because- was it really worth opening up? What child was going to understand him? His position, his thoughts… he was beyond his years, and it ostracized him. Otabek wasn’t even fully human.

 

What he was good at, though, was lying. About who he was, his intentions, lying by being friendly on nothing but a surface level.

 

By the time he was six years old, he’d learnt how to manipulate people at the most basic level. And now that he was older, Otabek used his power over people- their fear of him, and his charm, when he could use it- to have them leave him alone. He spent his days in his books, and today, especially, was no different.

 

Until it was.

 

 

\---

 

 

Earlier, a small group of people had showed up at the castle gates. Three of them, well dressed and tall… save for one shorter one that Otabek caught barely a glimpse of, which was frustrating- it made him want to see _them_ the most.

 

At best, the group appeared to be nobility, travelling with a young child. Though nothing about their appearances screamed particularly foreign (or particularly wealthy) to Otabek, the largest of the three was draped in a long, fur coat that dragged- and all three of them were adorned with blooming, colourful flowers, head to toe. They were like walking winter gardens, crossing the courtyard tiles.

 

But it wasn’t their attire that stood out to Otabek.

 

The group- every one of them- had pale skin and piercing eyes. Just like his mother. It’s wasn’t that hard to guess, then, what they were. Fairies, undoubtedly. But of the Ice kind? Otabek wasn’t sure.

 

The largest one did wear a tall, clear crown. So, perhaps...

 

Were they relatives, by any chance?

 

…No.

 

No, they couldn’t be. Fairies don’t have families, Otabek reminds himself. Fairies always live, and die, alone. Except for his Mother. Probably not except for Otabek.

 

 

 Nevertheless, the boy heads to the throne room later that day. He’d refrained from approaching the strangers immediately, hoping that King Altin would summon him to their court hearing instead, as he was to do. Otabek meets no one as he treads down the carpeted halls of the castle- but sure enough, he hears voices as he approaches.

 

He’s hesitant, but the young Prince takes a chance- and peers through a crack in the solid oak doors. He’d only intended to look at first, but curiosity got the better of him. Of course.

 

The boy opens his ears, too, and hears his mother address the three fairies officially, in a crystal-clear voice that rang like an icicle struck with a mallet.

 

“Welcome, my kin.” She says. _Her kin!_ “It is an honor to host you here, in our kingdom.”

 

A standard greeting, all throughout. Nothing special. The gruff, older-looking fairy replies. “And it is _our_ honor,” they say, in a deep, masculine voice, thick around the vowels that they spoke- bowing, but not so low as to tip their ice crown. “to be present. We have no names, but you may call me Yakov.”

 

A second person speaks next, voice lilting and youthful over Yakov’s harsh tones. For their long, metallic hair and pointy face, Otabek thinks- they’re very pretty, in the superficial sense. They have blue roses threaded among their cold, clear ornaments, and they speak like an excited child with an accent. They could be, by fairy standards. To Otabek, though, they look like they’re in their late-ish teens, or early twenties.

 

“I am the heir to Yakov.” The blue-rose fairy says. They beam as they do so, a hand threading through their silver locks, replacing a slipping flower. Preoccupied with that, they seem to forget something- that is, until Yakov nudges them.

 

“Oh!” they add. “I’m also nameless, by the way!”

 

There’s a hum from Otabek’s mother, then. A barely-there smile of amusement as the fairy with the blue roses giggles. She speaks thoughtfully.

 

 “…May I call you ‘Silver’?” she says. “After your hair. You’re very beautiful.” She croons.

 

At her suggestion, ‘Silver’ gasps. Their frosty eyes are starry and enthusiastic- they bow and open their mouth to thank her, but Yakov groans in the middle of it, interrupting them.

 

“Please _don’t_ , Your Highness." Yakov says. "You’ll do nothing but inflate their ego.”

 

‘Silver’ sounds scandalized. “My ego is flat!” they cry “Deflated! Besides- it is an honor to be named by a  _Human Queen_ , isn’t it? I have a right to be excited!”

 

Silver turns to Otabek’s mother- she’s watching them fondly, and it makes Otabek almost immediately trust them. He’s so caught up in their moment that he doesn’t notice the third person is gone- their tiny, child-like body slipping away in a ball of light, from where they’d been clutching onto Yakov’s furry robes.

 

He doesn’t notice, because it’s then that King Altin- Otabek’s father- talks.

 

His voice is low, and overpowering. Like always- for a man that rarely speaks, he has a strong presence, sucking everything out of the room until it becomes a black hole of _him_. When he stands, he commands everyone’s attention, and it almost stops Otabek from breathing, from even moving.

 

Because- Otabek swears- he’d stared at the door when he stood, for a minute, like he'd spotted his child eavesdropping. If he’d seen Otabek, the boy would be severely punished for it.

 

He gulps.

 

“Enough with the niceties.” King Altin growls. “Yakov- I would prefer it if we got to down business.”

 

Otabek watches the fairy nicknamed Silver pout- they don’t dare protest, though the King had ruined their fun. They look at Yakov defensively, and the older fae pointedly ignores them. Yakov clears their throat loudly.

 

“Agreed, Your Highness. We are here for diplomatic reasons, as I’m sure you know.”

 

“You would not be allowed here, were you not.” King Altin drawls. He (thankfully) sits back down, appeased once more.

 

Yakov frowns deeply at his comment, though, and King Altin's tight chin and wary face. Otabek knows the look- his Father doesn’t trust the Fairy King. Or anyone else in the room.

 

He never does. The boy wouldn’t trust them either, were they humans.

 

But they’re not.

 

Otabek thinks that’s _why_ his father doesn’t trust them.

 

The boy leaves as the conversation turns from greetings to politics. He doesn’t particularly care for the topic- although it was nice, if only for an indirect moment, to meet someone almost like him. He understands why King Altin didn’t have him sit in, for that feeling. Or rather, why he wouldn’t have wanted him to.

 

 

\---

 

 

Castle Almaty has a Lily garden. Arguably, it’s Otabek’s favourite place. It’s located in a small courtyard, just beside the crumbling castle walls- there’s only a single window near it that comes from a joining hallway, and Otabek has learnt that those looking through the glass can’t see down. He has complete privacy.

  
It’s perfect, in that way.

 

The boy takes out his books here to read. School books, sometimes, and occasionally factual tales and information. Legends of knights and lost kingdoms, mostly stories warning him of the Fairer Folk. Stories where knights are lead astray by fae contracts, or seduced by feminine fairies who eventually steal their souls. He’s told through them to beware the sound of bells- but how can he? His mother rings when she laughs. He’s never told anyone that he can hear her, and with the way people like her are feared, he doesn’t think he ever will.

 

It’s alright, though. Otabek’s able to tell his secrets to the white lilies and the sapling tree. The lilies, for whom he’s grown up with like an old, comforting friend. They never talk back to him. They don’t tell lies, or frown, or speak through distrust and discomfort like the maids and chefs and dignitaries do. They’ve no mouths to speak with.

 

Otabek has told his Lily-garden that he can hear his mother’s bells.

 

He’s told them other things, too- like how much he’s been enjoying the romance novels he’s supposed to be too young for. This one in particular he enjoys has a green-eyed, blonde-haired maiden as the star. It’s so _different_ from the other books, the legends that he reads. The heroine is known for her attitude as much as she’s known for her magic. And yes, she uses magic- a weird kind that causes her hair to grow to her feet, but… still. She’s a human who uses magic. A Halfling, and Otabek latches onto that fact. He hasn’t shown any magic potential- mightn’t ever- but he’s like her. That’s what’s important to him.

 

Anyway- the heroine’s love interest hasn’t met her yet, but they’re soulmates, despite being from two different worlds!

 

It’s all very poetic, and though Otabek doesn’t understand love or romance quite yet, he gushes about it to the lilies, sometimes. And to the sapling-tree, when it cares to listen. But it’s still a baby. Otabek doesn’t expect it to have it all sorted yet.

 

He tells his garden that he wants to be like that girl, someday- more than he already is. She’s an Ice Dancer as well as a weird hair-magician, and while Otabek doesn’t know if he has his mother’s Ice powers, he wants to _perform_ like she does.

 

That’s another thing the Lilies are good for: they’re an audience. They won’t laugh at him while he tries to learn ballet, or the waltz with an imaginary partner.

 

…They’re not so good at giving out critique, though. But Otabek doesn’t mind. He’s strict enough on himself to know what he does well and what he’s poor at, and he works tirelessly.

 

 

 With all that said, though, Otabek doesn’t… want to do any of that, today.

 

He’s heard enough talking. Now, he just wants to just sit, in relative silence. The garden will accommodate- he still mumbles to the flowers. Nothing coherent, no kind of conversation. Just his thoughts where they ebbed and flowed through his mind.

 

“King Altin doesn’t like me.” He says once. That’s not news to anybody.

 

“Mother showed me how to make a snowflake the other day, but I couldn’t do it.” He comments another time. Also not news.

 

“Do you think seals are real? This book says it’s a mammal, like humans. But it lives in the sea like a fish. I wonder if I’ll see it someday?” he muses.

 

Just an odd, wandering thought.

 

And then, after a while, he says-

 

“What’s it like to have friends?”

 

The grass beneath where he sits rustles, all shrivelled up and dry.

 

It’ll be winter, soon- Otabek can feel it, thick and cold in the air. He hopes that the Lilies will survive it, among the other plants and flowers. The boy will miss his garden when it’s cold.

 

He keeps speaking, passing words quietly.

 

“I want a friend my age” he says. “Someone like me. I guess…”

 

He mumbles, before remembering that he’s supposed to speak up. And he does.

 

“I want to know what it’s like to feel loved.”

 

Like the heroine and her soulmate, he thinks. Someone to care about him unconditionally. An angel watching over him, always. Like a God’s love.

 

Maybe not so much like a parent’s.

 

The boy takes a deep, drawn-out sigh.

 

He’s allowed to dream about things like love, when he’s alone. He’s allowed to vulnerable here. Nothing else but a boy- not a young, demanding Prince, or a _Changeling._

 

(Which he swears he isn’t- he’s his mother’s child, and she’s a fairy! Clearly, people didn’t realize they were misusing the word as an insult.)

 

(…not that he’s insulted.)

 

\---

 

 

Everyone around Otabek, for his duty and the world he lives in, forgets that he’s just a child- he _himself_ forgets he’s _just a child_. Otabek forgets that he inherently belongs to any group at all. He’d forget that he existed, if you’d let him.

 

Not that he’d mind it that way. He could be like a fantasy, like his novels were. A legend. Maybe that way, he’d find love, in any of it’s forms.

 

Which- he’s yet, for today, to read. So the boy picks up and opens a book at random. He’s not in the mood for anything in particular.

 

 

\---

 

Imagine this.

 

A child with golden hair, choppy and short like they cut it themselves. And sharp, green eyes with dark bags that peer out from under their bangs, ready to fight or flee in an instant- or both.

 

Imagine that child flying down a hallway of Castle Almaty on a path of ice. There’s a good twenty guards on their tail and every single one of them has fallen over at least _once_ in their pursuit. It’s an entertaining sight- for the child, at least.

 

“Someone stop that thing!” a guard yells. And isn’t that a little rude? They’re a fairy, not a _thing_. The kid has half the mind to yell back at them- but actions speak louder than words. A bat of their tiny wings, and they twirl- a single, quick rotation, and they throw out their hand. Spiralling towards the guard goes a shot of ice, a concentrated in a ball that spins like a mini-blizzard through the air. It lands and explodes in front of the man, and hits two other guards. They’re knocked back on their feet- dazed, for now- and the kid can’t help but smirk.

 

They don’t notice that from the other side of the hall, a second party is approaching to block them off.

 

\---

 

Otabek’s silence with the lilies and his pile of books is disturbed by the sound of smashing glass from above. It’s abrupt and violent- the boy looks up to the sound of it, to the window that looked over the garden.

 

And in slow-motion, a pale child comes crashing through it.

 

They’re absolutely tiny, both in height and in proportions. Their golden hair is messy, almost in a bowl-cut, and the short strands whip wildly around their face. They’re suspended in the air for a moment- just a moment- and then they’re falling, falling down, towards the earth.

 

And as they’re falling, they and Otabek lock eyes.

 

He sees a piercing ocean. An endless abyss of _green_.

 

The kid lands on the grass with a sudden _thud_ as time resumes in Otabek’s head. They steady themselves on all fours- when they rise, they’re completely unshaken, and unharmed.

 

The young Prince opens his mouth to scream.

 

“Shh-!”

 

They’re on him in an instant. A hand over his mouth and- seriously, how’d they recover so quick? Otabek’s confusion is muffled by the other child’s hand, and they glare at him venomously. There’s a whole lot of people yelling high above them, and as Otabek looks up, a helmeted head pokes out of window.

 

The guard tries to look down- not that he’d see much. He looks up, too, and all around, searching for something, someone. Otabek and the kid should have been hidden from their line of sight. There’s a long pause, and then Otabek hears the guard groan.

 

“No luck, boys. It escaped… bastard flew out the window. We need to inform King Altin and his Guests.” They call.

 

And then as sudden as they’d came, the guards are gone.

 

The kid’s face softens once the sound of clanking metal leaves- and they sigh. Their finger falls from Otabek’s lips, and coldly, they turn away.

 

And as they do, stunned silent, Otabek sees them- a pair of tiny wings on their back. Translucent and veined, shimmering in the afternoon sun with magic.

 

Otabek, with his mouth ajar, isn’t able to process any of this.

 

It’s like a fantasy. A dream so real he could almost touch it. Like one of his novels come to life. And since he’s thinking about this like that, suddenly, Otabek reaches out his hand.

 

It’s a desperate attempt. A last minute realization that this was an _opportunity,_ an opportunity to be...

 

Surely, if he were a hero, this was his call to a journey? He has to take this, he has to say something to this kid, this fairy-

 

They have the most stunning eyes. And their gaze… the blonde’s gaze is all but _disarming_.

 

It cuts deep into Otabek where it lands- shooting him down instantly. Deep green seas and heavy bags don’t belong on the face of a proper child. And certainly not on the face of a kind one. Not that Otabek has met a truly kind child. Not one his age.

 

The fairy flits their wings once, twice. And then, still staring straight at Otabek- straight _into_ Otabek- they dissolve into light.

 

And then they’re gone.

 

\---

 

King Yakov leaves that night in a hurry- one of his own people left Almaty with warning, it seems. A fairy that looked like a small child with blonde hair- the silver-haired fairy’s disciple.

 

They don’t have a name, but Otabek gives them one in his head. Because he knows exactly who that is.

 

_Green Eyes._

 

Otabek’s own eyes are drooping in the dimness of his bedroom. And he wishes- he _prays_ to whatever gods that he can think of, that he’ll meet that fairy again.

 

 _Green Eyes, Green Eyes_. And he’ll name them properly when he sees them, too. He’ll name them, and then they’ll be bound together like he tells himself Fate wants them to be. Two halves of a whole. Is that how friends worked? Maybe. Maybe not. It’d be nice, though.

 

…Nice. Just nice.

 

Truth is, Otabek wants it with all of his heart.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> expect more chapters eventually 
> 
> *wink emoji*


End file.
